For The Living
by TappinCastlefan
Summary: The dead deserve a voice, but what about the living?


_You know when you get that little seed in your head and you just have to get it done ASAP? That's what this is. _

_Disclaimer:_ If I owned anything I'd be on safari like Mr. Marlowe.

_Summary: _The dead deserve a voice, but what about the living?

* * *

He's only been "Captain Montgomery" for a few months. The promotion had surprised him, he was expecting to just stay in his detective position, but someone clearly had other plans for him.

Maybe he shouldn't be surprised.

He leans back in his new desk chair and looks out into the bullpen. They were good people. Good officers and detectives, and they trusted him. They had no idea that he hasn't deserved any of it.

But this is his chance, isn't it?

He looks to the stack of files he's been reviewing in the past weeks – learning how his detectives worked, how they wrote reports. Some of them were cold cases that he was interested in, or an officer had requested. But it was time for them to go back to Archives.

After he gets all the files back in place he notices that there's a light on in the far corner. Should he bother? The decision to take charge wins out over his somber mood and he heads for the light.

A woman has set up camp with a box, legal pad and a flashlight. She's frantically scribbling lines of notes, her focus tunneled and split between the case and the pad. Her short crop of hair drapes her face from him.

"Hey."

She startles at his call and the flashlight clatters to the floor along with her pen.

"Sorry, I'll just, my TO…I was just-"

"You were just breaking protocol for something that your TO probably doesn't care about."

She argues, looking up at him, "No! He…"

He can see her mouth going, but her voice has faded in his ears. It feels like a truck hit him.

It can't be.

But it is.

Her.

Beckett.

But it's not her.

"I know, but I've been working, and he gave me an hour off," the words are spilling from her mouth. He needs her to slow down, make some sense before he panics.

"Hold on." He holds up a hand, "Just calm down. Explain."

"It's my mom's case. And there are things in here that don't make sense. No interviews, and a really vague ME report, and-"

"Do you have permission to be down here Officer B- Officer?"

"My TO gave me an hour off and I just thought that I'd-"

"You don't have authorization to be here."

"I'm sorry," she stutters, "I'll put everything back, I swear, I just…I had to see…"

He sighs, and knows that he has a responsibility to this girl. A distant and hidden responsibility, but it's there nonetheless.

"Okay, why don't you put all this away? It's not your place to be looking into it. You're putting a lot at risk. The case? Your job? Someone will pick up the case again-"

"But sir-"

"No. No 'but'. Look, I'm not going to tell your training officer or your captain, but you need to get out of here."

She huffs, apparently fighting a frustrated sob, as she gathers her belongings and files the case back into the box. "Alright. I'll go. But it's not right, Sir, I'm telling you."

He takes the box from her, shaking his head. "You let me worry about that." He looks her up and down, her uniform is pressed so perfectly that he can see the creases, shoes polished, not a thing askew. "You seem like a good kid, don't let this eat you alive."

This time he hears the telltale sniff of a person in mourning. "Thank you," she whispers, "I should get back to work."

"Sounds like a good idea." He watches as she heads to the elevator, her polished shoes almost clacking against the cement foundation, "Hey," he calls and she turns around. "What's your name, Officer?"

"Beckett. Kate Beckett."

He stares off into space when he gets back to his desk. It was actually _her_. Sort of. She looked- god, she looked just like her mother. And her name was Kate. He jots it down on a post-it, tucks it into the pocket inside his briefcase. He needs to remember her name.

The kid has drive. Passion. He wants to make sure she can exercise her potential. She sure as hell deserves the chance.

And after everything…

He owes it to her.

(...)

The envelope is sealed. Thick. Sitting there on his desk. Not mocking him. Just- sitting there. The truth, all in one envelope. The whole source of who he has become is in there.

He's lounging – but not lounging – at his desk.

Staring down the truth.

Her knock is a welcome pull away from it all. "Hey you," her voice is sweet and innocent. "You coming to bed?" She's just barely leaning into his office, dressed in a simple cotton nightgown. She looks so comfortable.

He's jealous.

His mind is spinning and tumbling with stress and his stomach feels like it's been clenched and twisted twelve times over. He wants nothing more than to crawl into bed with his wife, maybe with a good book, comfortable and loved.

But he's made his decision.

He's going to honor his commitment.

Pay his debts.

"Yeah." He sighs, swiveling back and forth, "I'll be up in a few."

His wife crosses the room then, feet padding softly on the carpeting, and comes around his desk. He wraps an arm around her waist to pull her close.

"What's all this?"

"Oh," he sighs, "just stuff for a case."

She hums, "You never can leave it at the precinct, can you?"

The chuckle comes from somewhere deep in his chest, "Guess not." He feels her press a kiss to his head and caresses her side.

"You are nothing if not a dedicated Captain, but," she turns and takes his hands to pull him up, "it's late. Come on."

He looks back at the envelope one last time as she leads him out. He'll mail it tomorrow.

He checks in on his children on the way to bed. They're all peaceful, sleeping. He's tried to teach them everything he possibly could. He taught them how to be strong, how to love. Now he's going to show them how to accept responsibilities, how to honor, and how to be brave.

And they don't _need_ him to protect them anymore. His daughters keep telling him so. But he's going to anyway.

Hopefully they'll never even know.

He's put in everything he could to make sure of it.

"Roy," her hand is resting on his chest, a warm weight as they lie back in bed, "are you alright?"

He smiles, rests his hand over hers, linking their fingers together. "Yeah. I'm good." He waits for her to look up at him so that he can kiss her properly. "I love you, you know."

"Yeah," she grins, "I know."

"Don't forget that, okay?"

She looks up at him slightly worried, "You sure you're okay?"

"Mhmm," he slides them down under the covers, "just feeling sentimental tonight."

Her face changes to one of understanding before she turns in his arms to reach out for the alarm and the lamp. "Love you too," she whispers into the dark.

He can feel her drift off, right beside him as they've slept for the past thirty years.

He wants to regret what he's doing, but he can't. Evelyn would hate him if she knew. She'd try to talk him out of it. She can never find out about what he's done. Or what he's doing.

But there's no other option. He's up against a wall with no equipment to scale it. If he doesn't do this there's no telling what will happen and how many more people will die.

He needs to do it for Kate and her mother. For all the other victims of this mess.

He has to do it for his wife and children.

To keep them alive. His family and Kate.

He has to make his stand.

(...)

It's a record. For her to come here twice in one day. Hell, twice in one week. It wasn't even until a year after everything that she could handle twice a month.

She doesn't know why she's here.

But it hits her as soon as she finds her footing in front of the stone.

She needs to talk. And she doesn't know who else to talk to.

The earth is soft underneath her when she sits down. The air smells of organic matter, acid, and rocks - petrichor – she remembers learning that in chemistry. The smell of rain.

It's going to rain and she doesn't care.

She finds that she doesn't really care about a lot of things right now.

Her fingers find a long blade of grass to play with while she struggles with her words.

"You're probably starting to wonder if you'll ever see me they way you want to…It seems like every time I've been here in the past year I've been a mess. I thought I was getting better.

I almost died today. Again. That's probably a record, too, right? How many times I've almost died?" The weak laugh catches in her throat. It's really not funny. But it's so absurd at this point that it kind of is. "God," she wipes a tear from her cheek, hating that she's crying again, "I don't know what to do Mom. I've screwed everything up, just like I always do. Messed up your case because I couldn't do what I'm supposed to do. _Was_ supposed to do. I almost got Esposito killed. I'm…sure, that I would have been if Ryan hadn't shown up. With Gates."

She scoffs.

"I resigned." Her voice is just barely a whisper with the rustle of the trees, "Not a Detective anymore. Sort of. But…I figure, maybe it's time. Maybe I really can let your case go. Should. Everyone else thinks so.

She takes a deep breath, a shudder running down her spine. Her fingers are still twisting the poor blade of grass, almost ripping it to shreds. "I want to. I want to be able to. But I don't know if I can and not feel like I'm letting you down. Dad keeps telling me that you would want me to move on, and I think- I think I know that, too…somewhere inside of me, I know that this isn't what you would want.

I don't know what I want."

She sits there, thinking about how her mom used to tell her to have fun. _Not too much fun, Katie. Just enough_. Does she even remember what it feels like to really have fun? To really be happy?

She thinks about every time she's been close enough to get a taste of what that feeling was like. To know that she was loved and to not have a worry. The feeling of being able to smile and not feel like everything was caving in. Every time. Every damn time, it was because of him.

"I let him go. Again. I don't even know how it happened but," she pauses, flashes of that fight – all the fights – striking her head, "why can't I just let myself do it? Why can't I be like everyone else on the planet and know what I want and go get it?"

She knows the answer to that. She knows that she can get it. Him. She can have everything she wants. She just has to…let go.

Montgomery's words from a year ago echo against the clatter of her own thoughts.

_We speak for the dead…We're all they've got once the wicked rob them of their voices. We owe them that. But we don't owe them our lives. _

Even though he wasn't perfect he taught her so much. She just hasn't realized it until now.

"I want to be happy. If I keep running at this….that may never happen."

She can hear the thunder getting closer. The air has grown humid and hot. It seems like it takes a lot more effort to breathe-

Until she lets go.

She lets the tears stream down her face, her eyes stinging and chest heaving with the sobs. "I'm _so_ sorry Mom. I wanted to do it for you, because you deserve it more than anyone. But…I don't think it's enough for _me_ anymore. I need to do something for me."

_You weren't having any fun before he came along. _

"I'm scared. Terrified. But you always said I had to try, right? It might be too late, but I have to try."

The rain begins to fall, little splashes against the stone and her face. She heaves herself up, brushing her hands against her thighs. She doesn't bother to dry her face, it's raining anyway– no one will notice.

And she doesn't care.

"Maybe the next time I'm back things will be better."

Her boots leave prints in the wet dirt as she walks. Her bag is in her car, in the garage at her apartment. She couldn't stand to be in it anymore after she parked. Too confining. She's been walking ever since, but it feels good.

She's got the watch and the ring. Both safely tucked under her jacket and shirt. Her phone's in her pocket with her license and no precise amount of cash. Enough to get her from here to there.

She's not anticipating it to be an easy trip.

She'll get there soon.

The rain comes down harder when she gets to the little playground. It's taking everything she has to keep going. She has to.

She'll get there eventually.

She steps into the elevator of his building. It's all so close. Just at the edge of her reach. But she's still going. She's actually doing it.

For herself, and for him.

She knows what she wants.

Finally.

* * *

_Yeah...I love the whole Montgomery to Kate, life lesson, passing the torch sort of thing. Hope you liked! Let me know!_

**_Tappin  
=)_**


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